I'm Driving a Tesla Cybertruck for 24 Hours. What Do You Want To Know?

Refrigerator, Satan’s doorstop, the box the Roadster came in—by now you’ve heard all the nicknames and have probably formed your own opinion of the Tesla Cybertruck, the newest, largest, and most polarizing vehicle yet from the mind of Elon Musk. But what is it actually like to live with?

We're about to find out as I begin a 24-hour fling with the Cybertruck in and around Los Angeles. So, what do you want to know? What do you want me to poke, pull, or prod? What would you like to see smushed by its guillotine-esque hood closing action?

The one disclaimer: we can't break anything on purpose. This Cybertruck comes to us via the fine folks at Turo and an enthusiastic early adopter named Chris, and we promised to take care of it. (Thanks, Chris.)

I’ll start with some early observations; first, this thing is sharp! I’m not talking about good looks, although it certainly turns heads. I’m not someone who covets attention, so the slack-jawed stares, iPhones hanging out windows, and stoplight conversations are a bit much. I’m talking rough edges, slice-a-finger-open sharp. The front and rear quarter panels in particular feel anything but kid-tested, parent-approved.

Second, you feel like you’re sitting about a mile behind the front axle, thanks to the rake of the windshield and the massive dash. It’s the one thing the Cybertruck and the Toyota Prius have in common.